by T. Torrest
The reality of what she was trying to tell me started to sink in, liquid fire boiling through my veins.
My voice got infinitely louder at that point as I dove right in, trying to find some sense in what was happening. “What about New York, Lisa? What about our plans?”
“Layla, I know and I’m sorry. I knew this was going to be hard for you.”
Hard for me? Try impossible. Was she serious?
“You’re barely eighteen! You’re going to be one of those trashy girls that shacks up with her pimply boyfriend in some trailer somewhere and has twelve kids before the age of twenty! What are you thinking?”
Lisa tried making a joke. “Pick doesn’t have pimples.”
I ignored her attempt at levity and just continued my tirade. “What about your life, Lis? You’re gonna follow him all the way out to the west coast and just completely give up your dreams for his? How can you just blow off F.I.T.? You’ve only been talking about going there forever. How can he ask that of you?”
“He didn’t ask. He wants me to enroll in the fashion program at the Hollywood Arts Institute.”
“But it’s not New York! It’s not the same thing!”
“Layla, I don’t know how to make you understand. I want to go. I know that seems hurtful right now and I know all you can see is how I’m screwing up our plans, but someday I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. I’m hoping you’ll understand. One day, when you find that one person you know you’re supposed to be with, you’ll do whatever you have to do in order to be with him.”
“So that’s what you’re doing? Being with your one and only true love, Pickford Redy? Really, Lisa?”
I knew I was putting some extra snotty into my voice, and at that moment, I didn’t really care. She deserved it. How could she do this to me?
I heard her sigh on the other end of the phone, which pissed me off even further. I’d been yelling like a banshee during our entire conversation, only to hear her calmly respond to my remarks from her end. Where did she get off, expelling some wise-beyond-her-years sigh, talking at me like I was some petulant child and she was so damned mature all of a sudden? Not one month before, I was holding her freaking hair out of the toilet while she puked her guts out after too many shots of Jaeger. Four weeks later, she’s trying out her June Cleaver impersonation?
“You know what, Lis? FUCK YOU. I hope you and Pickford live happily ever after. Have a nice life.”
I slammed down the phone, so furious that I was actually shaking. It was the worst betrayal ever. I couldn’t believe my best friend in the entire world was content to just throw me into the lion’s den without even looking back. How the hell was I going to survive New York on my own? How could she expect me to?
I went downstairs and just shrieked the whole sordid story out to my father. The poor man didn’t know what to do with me, stunned that I was slumped at his feet, laying all this information on him.
“Oh, Layla. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, at least someone is! Lisa could care less!”
He finally realized he was holding a book, and placed it on the side table before offering, “I highly doubt that. She loves you, honey.”
“Well, she obviously loves Pick more!”
“Be fair. I’m sure this was a hard decision for her.”
“I doubt it.”
I was being extraordinarily stubborn, and my father could tell he wasn’t going to get through to me any time soon. He finally capitulated, throwing his hands in the air and attempted to distract me. “Well, it’s too much to figure out tonight, right?” He got up from his recliner and held out his hand to me. “Come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream cone.”
I let him haul me up from the floor before he threw an arm around my shoulders and led me to the kitchen. “Everything’s going to work out just fine, Layla-Loo. You’ll see.”
Yeah, right.
Not twenty-four hours after having to say goodbye to Cooper, Lisa decided to abandon me. I was so sick of how quickly everything was changing and I couldn’t seem to keep up with it all. I had enough anxiety about having to leave my friends and family behind, say sayonara to Trip, my dad, my brother... and leave the only place I’d ever lived in my entire life. On top of which Lisa goes and lays all this new information on me. It was just too much to handle for one seventeen-year-old girl.
If that’s what it took to grow up, then no thank you, I could do without it, thank you very much. It only meant letting go of everything and everyone I ever loved.
Chapter 34
DEFENDING YOUR LIFE
I found myself back at my old locker at St. Norman’s.
There was a padlock on the handle, which was weird, because those things had been banned the year before. The school was trying out a new honor system, under the misguided fantasy that good little Catholic students like us didn’t have any need to lock up our belongings from all the other good little Catholic students. I’d had a leather jacket, numerous writing implements and my senior yearbook stolen over the course of the year, so... I guess it was a pretty good system. Not. Thankfully, I was able to replace the yearbook, but I never did see that jacket again.
When I saw that the lock had my initials carved into it, I realized it was mine, the one I’d had ever since junior high. I’d left it in my locker all year, hoping for a reversal in the new rule. I must have unconsciously slapped the thing on there on the last day of school. I tried out my old combination: 0-6-16, and it popped right open.
I was expecting to find an empty space, but instead, there was a single, white rose. My heart starting beating faster, wondering if Trip had left it for me. The more I looked at it, the more I saw that it wasn’t in the best of shape, wilting and browning around the edges, obviously due to inattention. The thing had probably been in there since grad night. I’d never had the greenest thumb, but I’m sure I could have managed to keep a single flower alive, at least for a little while, had I only known it was in there. I figured the best I could do at that point was to try and dry it out and keep it as a memento.
I went to grab it, intending to press it into my yearbook, when I noticed it was making some sort of noise.
Like a ticking.
And then I saw some strange wires protruding from it.
I looked at the floor of my locker and saw a brick of explosive material- what was that stuff called again?- and wondered who would have left a boobytrap for me. Why is it called a boobytrap?
But then I realized I shouldn’t care about such details when all I really needed to concentrate on was getting out of there. Quick.
I tried to run, but it was like I couldn’t get my legs to move properly, practically in cartoon mode, my arms pumping and my legs in a Roadrunner blur, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. I knew I only had seconds- for some reason, I was able to see the digital readout on the bomb, counting down in boxy, red numerals, even though I’d slammed the locker door shut before trying to run away.
I somehow made it down the hallway and could see the light from the front doors just steps away. But every step I took toward the exit, the further it moved away from me, until finally- tick, tick, tick, three, two, one- there was a huge BOOM! behind me!
The walls shook, the windows shattered, the floor rippled. I could feel the heat from the blast, lifting me off my feet, hurtling me airborne, my body flying across the foyer and out the door, the concrete stairs coming to meet me at a rapid pace. Falling, falling...
Falling out of my bed and landing on the floor.
I shook my head awake and untangled my sweaty self from the sheets, realizing I was safe and sound in my very own room. God. What a weirdo. That’s the last time I fall asleep watching Die Hard.
I peeked out the window and saw that it was another sunny, summer day outside, so I grabbed the one-piece off my doorknob and got dressed to go swimming. The pool was almost too warm that time of year, having been steadily heated from the sun all summer long. But in the cool early morning, I knew it would feel j
ust perfect. I didn’t bother testing the temperature with my toes before diving right in, the oasis enveloping me with a watery calm.
It had been almost two whole weeks since my fight with Lisa, and we hadn’t spoken to each other the entire time. It was the longest we’d ever gone without talking to one another- even when she went to Italy for a whole month one summer, we managed to get in a weekly phone call- and it felt really strange not having her there.
There was so much to talk about! I wanted to tell her about the blowjob article in the latest issue of Cosmo, and page one-seventeen had directions for making an awesome, fabric-covered bulletin board. I wanted to tell her how great things had been going with Trip and me, and I knew she must have been dying to fill me in about her plans with Pickford. I wanted to show her the pictures from graduation that my father had finally gotten developed- there was a really great one of she and I, and Dad had ordered two five-by-sevens so we could each take one to school.
To our separate schools, on completely opposite coasts.
Weeks before, when our New York plan was still in effect, Lisa and I had received our housing assignments within days of each other, both of us scheduled to move in to our respective dorms on the same date in August. Just one short day away.
I wondered when she’d be expected to report to Hollywood Arts. I wondered if she was even able to enroll at all. Didn’t they have deadlines out in California? Didn’t Pick need to be there early, too?
I did an Olympic turn at the pool’s edge and pushed off with my feet, loving the feel of strength in my legs and the constant testing of my body’s abilities.
Just one more day.
I came up for air, pausing at the deep end, throwing my arms over the side to hold my head above water.
I thought that Lisa and Pickford must have already left, probably days ago. Surely, they wouldn’t still be slumming around Jersey when a glamorous and exciting city like Los Angeles was awaiting their arrival, right?
Then again... maybe I wasn’t too late.
I hauled my sopping wet body out of the pool and toweled off.
* * *
I rang the DeSantos’ bell for the first time in years. It had been forever since I actually did that instead of just giving a quick knock and waltzing right on in.
Lisa’s mom answered the door. “Hey, Mrs. D.”
Her eyes lit up, and my heart panged with guilt.
“Layla! How are you, sweetheart? I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long!” She put a hand on my shoulder, ushering me into the house. “I’m glad I get to see you before you take off for the big city. Tomorrow, right?”
“Yes. It’s really weird, I can’t believe it.”
She gave my shoulder a quick rub and yelled up the stairs. “Lis! Layla’s here!” before turning back to me and saying, “Go on up. She’ll be happy to see you.”
Obviously, Lisa hadn’t told her mom about our blowout.
Then she gave me a big hug and added, “Oh, my little girls are both leaving! Where does the time go?”
I hugged her back, but didn’t know what to say. There were too many things running through my mind. So, I just said, “I’m glad I got to see you before I left, too.”
I went upstairs and gave a knock on Lisa’s door- again, another first- and she told me to come in. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by boxes and clothes and books and stuff.
“Hi,” I said, a bit sheepishly.
“Hi,” she said back. There was an awkward pause while I was thinking of the right way to launch an apology, but Lisa broke the silence before I could. “Whadja come over to tell me to fuck off in person this time?”
The shocking words hurt, even knowing that I probably deserved them and a whole lot more. I looked at her, ready to face head-on whatever else was coming.
But then I saw the smile eeking its way out from her lips.
Vintage Lisa, so ready and willing to forgive. I hadn’t even apologized yet, but all she ever needed was for me to just show up. She was always the bigger person, dammit, always so much more grown-up and thought-out and cool. It made me wonder what her payoff was for staying friends with me all these years.
“Okay, I deserved that.” I decided to just lay myself out on the altar of humility. “But Lisa, Oh, God. I’m just so, so sorry for everything I said. I was selfish and rude and I don’t know what got into me.”
I sank down on the floor across from her as she said, “A little of the ol’ bitch, that’s what.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Maybe a pinch of jealousy?”
I hadn’t realized it until she said it, but there it was. No way could I even dream of taking off on such a huge adventure. “Yeah. That too.”
“And maybe a big old dose of Trip Wilmington’s man-goo?”
That one threw me, made us both start laughing. “Are you insane? What is wrong with you, perv?” Then, in answer to her ridiculously phrased probing, “And no, unfortunately. Virginity still very much intact, you freak.”
She picked up a green piece of fabric and threw it at me, but I managed to dodge to the side and catch it in my hand.
“Look at you with the catlike reflexes!”
I was busy inspecting the Girl Scout sash in my hand, checking out all her badges. I had a similar one somewhere at home, with most of the same achievements. Except that Lisa’s were lovingly sewn on in perfectly aligned rows, whereas mine where stuck on haphazardly with Krazy Glue. Needless to say, I didn’t earn my sewing patch that year. “Where’d you dig this thing out from? You’re not packing it, are you?”
Lisa reached out and I handed it over, watching as she ran her fingers over the embroidered disks. “No. I already packed my stuff for...” the word California had become a four-letter obscenity between us, and I sensed her hesitation to say it aloud. “...for the car. I also have a stack of boxes downstairs in the dining room which need to be shipped, but those” she pointed to a pile of clothes in the corner, “need to go to Goodwill, and this” she swept her arms around the scattered remnants all over the floor, “needs to get packed away for the attic.”
“My God, Lis. Looks like you’ve categorized every single thing you own!”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
I hopped up and grabbed one of the black garbage bags from a roll on the bed and started stuffing the Goodwill clothes in it. Lisa tried to protest, but it was easier to talk while we were both preoccupied with busy hands.
“So, when are you leaving?” I asked.
Lisa stopped sorting and answered, “Tonight. Midnight.” She sounded resolute, doing that convincing-herself thing again.
“That’s a weird time to start a trip.”
“It was my idea, actually. It was the last possible minute that we could leave and still get there in time for class registration.”
“But why? What were you wai-”
Oh.
I saw the look on her face and realized she’d been waiting for me. There was no way she was skipping town without us saying a proper goodbye.
“You knew I was coming today, didn’t you?”
She laughed out, “I knew you couldn’t leave without doing so first.”
“Oh, you manipulative witch!”
I picked up her Cabbage Patch doll and went to hurl it at her big, poofy head when she stopped my act with, “No, not Cassidy! Don’t do it!”
I was cracking up, even before looking into the dirty face of Cassidy Cleopatra Pink Poopypants Bourgeois. Obviously, we’d taken full advantage of the Rename-Your-Kid option on her birth certificate. I remembered that we’d also given her my mother’s birthdate. That was back when Kate was still around and I liked her enough to bestow such an honor.
“You’re right. That would just be taking things too far. Sorry, Cass.” I laid her in a box near where Lisa was sitting, thinking that poor Cassidy had better be prepared for a very long hibernation.
“You know,” she started in, suddenly intent on ripping off t
he Band-Aid. “Deciding to do this wasn’t easy.”
I acquiesced. “I know. I know that now.”
She gave me a small, grateful smile, then continued with her explanation. “When Pick first suggested the idea- down at the beach, by the way, after grad- When he first asked me to go with him, I was ecstatic, thinking that he must really and truly love me.” She absentmindedly tossed a few things into the box, adding, “But then, on the other hand, I almost immediately became... resentful. And angry. And scared. I mean, there was no way I could actually tell him yes, right? I just put my blinders on and focused solely on The Plan, you know? You and me. New York. End of story. It took me weeks of fighting Pick before I finally realized I didn’t know why I was even fighting him in the first place.”
She stopped tearing through the pile of stuff surrounding her legs and looked up at me. “Once I got over the idea of rearranging my entire future, rearranging yours-” at that, she tossed me a smirk, “I knew it was what I had to do. I knew it was what I wanted to do. Making the decision to actually go, however, was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my whole life.”
I knotted up the garbage bag and started on another one. “I know it was. I do. It’s just that I wish-”
“It’s just that you wish everything would never change. You wish someone could tie up your life with a neat little bow and have it presented to you all tidy and prepared so you’d never have to think about getting your hands dirty trying to figure anything out on your own.”
Does this chick know me or what?
I couldn’t even debunk her claims. As bad as it sucked, she’d hit the nail right on the head.
Then she said something that surprised me. “You’re tougher than you think, you know. As awful as I felt about having to tell you I was bailing on New York, I knew- even if you didn’t- that you were going to be okay. I wouldn’t have been able to do this if it weren’t for your... strength.”